1

really bad poem sorry

It was about 9 at night I’d say

When I found myself

Bags packed and in transit to a dark state

 

It was midnight

when you found me on the kitchen floor

knife in hand by the door

 

Daniel or David held on to me before you got there

I made him laugh when I asked about his

thanksgiving plans

 

no amount of sorry I could hand bake with love

could heal the wounds I carved

into both of us

 

however, selfishly,

I hope you’ll never look in the mirror and say

That you deserve more

Author's Note

really terrible